Touie
by GrenGren Alley
Summary: Arthur has seen a great many disturbing things. Perhaps some time with someone who isn't a total sociopath can set things right. Spoilers up to the latest manga chapters.


**Attention, dear readers; **I am well aware that I'm long-overdue on posting an update for The Legendary Piebird, and I do apologize for the long delay. Rest assured that I will be posting more very soon. I hope to have another chapter up before thanksgiving, and I have a few days off coming up that I can use to spoil you all with more.

However, I couldn't resist writing a little thing for Arthur...that is, assuming you all know who Arthur is. If you are not completely up to date with the manga then uh...you probably shouldn't read this story.

That said, if you ARE up to date, then I must express my adoration for sweet little Arthur. I felt so bad for what happened to him, so I decided to write this little story for him. This will be a short, two chaptered story, so don't dismay that it'll interfere much with my other writings.  
**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**Arthur**

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

It was a sunny sort of day.

One of those overly cheerful kind of days when the birds chirped loudly and the entire countryside lit up as if it were a painting of a fairy tale. Being thus, the residents of London felt particularly lively, rousing at earlier times than usual to go about their errands. Many businessmen took an early lunch to spend the time with their families, women bustled about the streets to shop, and children chased after one another in the streets, all of them enjoying the sunshine that had graced the normally gloomy city.

One resident of the city, however, seemed to be immune to the cheerful atmosphere. It was as though the clouds had crept down through the air to settle themselves about his mind and body, giving him a very anxious air.

This young man, who indeed seemed very paranoid and jumpy, walked through the doors of a bookstore around two-thirty on that day. He ignored the shopkeeper's greeting, ignored the two other customers in the shop, and ignored the cheerful tinkling of the bell as he entered the doors. Instead, he stalked silently towards the back shelves of the store, his youthful countenance a mixture of fear and sleeplessness.

He had arrived in order to do research, for he intended to write again. His pen had once lain to rest, but his restless dreams, haunting him for a fortnight now, had made him take up ink and quill once more. Ever since that incident, that dark and endless night under a dank deluge...it was as if something compelled him to write more, some invisible force wrenching his arm across page after page. Night after night, he was torn from his sleep, dark whispers in his dreams chasing him to wakefulness in a state of panic.

The dreams themselves were always the same; shadows and a black fog, a long hallway in a familiar mansion. He would try to step down the hall, only to find his feet stuck fast to where he stood, locked in place by some unseen force. When he would try to look down, he found his neck fixed in place as well, his entire body rigid as something writhed and growled further down the hall. Though he knew it was there, could hear it approaching and feel the thrumming of a heartbeat in the dark, he could not see it moving at all. Eyes swiveled wildly as the young man tried desperately to see the creature, tried to discern what it was that lurked in the dark, waiting.

But he never could.

As soon as the creature was but a hair's breath away, he'd feel a wind whip through the hall, tearing away the walls and the fog, leaving him beneath the black, starless sky. A voice would whisper to him then, a sound that would make his hair stand on end as he shivered, though not from cold. A cold, seductive voice, smiling as the lips formed words.

"We're always watching."

Indeed, he had felt as if it were true. Late at night, when he sat in his room to ready for bed. In the morning, when he was dressing for work. In the middle of the night, when he'd awaken from a dreamless sleep, gasping for air and feeling eyes watching him.

Was that why he wrote like a man possessed? Was it in an effort to cure himself of the nightmares that had haunted him for months?

The young man was lost in his thoughts, engrossed in his horrific memories. His eyes did not take in the titles of the books before him. Indeed, he seemed as a shade among the shelves, a silent statue merely standing. It was obvious, even to a stranger, that all was not well.

One such stranger warily approached him, footsteps silent to the young man's ears. A cautious hand extended towards a shoulder, unsure if it should touch him. Fingers came to rest on the wool jacket, warm weight of a palm following. The reaction, however, was not what the stranger had expected.

The young man jolted, taking a defensive step back in alarm. Eyes widened in animal fear, and the man let out a yelp as the sharp edge of the wooden shelf behind him bit into his back.

The young man quickly realized his blunder, and his cheeks colored in embarrassment. He sputtered an apology, a familiar reaction to the type of situation, and he glimpsed his would-be attacker.

It was a young woman with wide blue eyes and long, gently waving blond hair.

The stranger was taken aback by the young man's reaction, though she did not retreat. Instead, a look of concern crossed the young woman's face as she lowered her outstretched arm.

"I'm sorry," she offered gently. "Are you alright?"

No one had asked him that question in months, not since the first week of nightmares. If pressed to answer, he would have lied, would have said that everything was fine, it was just stress.

"Alright..." he had not been alright in several months, not since that night in that mansion. no..perhaps it was even before then, the moment he had decided to accept the invitation to that place. He could not recall the feeling of a smile, nor the sensation of peaceful rest. Something within him cried out, pleading for him to spill everything to this stranger, for someone...anyone to listen.

But he'd faced innocence before. The deceptive appearance of that little boy had led him to his fate to begin with. That smile, so full of cruelty...he berated himself countless times for failing to see through it. He would not fall for it again.

However, faced with the wide, clear eyes of the young woman before him, the truth came out on its own. A moment of weakness, perhaps.

"N-no..." his voice was weak, as if it had not seen use in a long while. "No, I'm not alright."

"I'm...terribly sorry." the female apologized yet again. "I didn't mean to frighten you so badly."

"No, no...it isn't you. I—I haven't slept much of late, so I am a bit...fatigued."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that. Um...would you like to sit down?"

The young man took up the offer immediately, plopping down onto the floor as if he had been walking for hours. The girl, though taken aback at his actions (as she had expected him to rest on the cushioned bench that sat between two shelves), delicately folded her skirts about her as she followed suit, seating herself in the middle of the aisle of books next to the frazzled writer.

"Now then," the girl smiled at him. "did that help at all?"

"Not...really..." the male admitted. "Um...I'm sorry to trouble you miss..."

"Oh! My apologies! My name is Louisa. Um...if it's not too much, might I ask what is bothering you so much...?"

"Oh uh...Arthur." the young man offered his name in return. "Actually it is...well, it's embarrassing..."

"Nonsense! Throwing up on your cousin at her own wedding is embarrassing. Forgetting to clean your face after dinner is embarrassing. You don't look embarrassed. You look like you've lost all hope over something."

Arthur's eyes widened considerably, and he retreated a good five feet away from the girl. She could tell? However, he relaxed only slightly when she started to laugh softly.

"I'm joking! I only wanted to lighten the mood! It's just that you look so much like a kicked puppy that I simply- Oh my, forgive me!" she apologized through her giggling.

Her smile was not like the child Earl's. His was bitter and false, a ruse to lure him into a trap. Louisa's at least seemed genuine, even if she was laughing at his expense. He was not sure what to do in this situation. True, he'd been laughed at a lot in the past, but given his state of mind, he was simply not sure what to make of the present situation.

Louisa stopped laughing, folding her hands in her lap.

"I am sorry." she said sincerely. "It's not good to laugh at people. I won't ask what it is that is bothering you. You do look rather pathetic, though. I wish there was something I could do to help..."

Arthur winced a bit. Did he truly paint such a sad picture? True, he hadn't bought a new suit in months, and he was in dire need of a haircut, but it wasn't that far from his normal appearance, right? He wasn't aware that those events had effected him so visibly. At his expression, Louisa immediately looked apologetic again.

"Oh no! I didn't mean it that way!" she sputtered. "How can I put this? Um...Oh, I know! Whenever I'm feeling down about something, and I can't focus on anything, you know what cheers me up?"

Arthur shook his head slowly, perhaps discerning if she was going to suggest some kind of torture technique.

"Something sweet!" she declared, catching him off-guard yet again. "There's this great little bakery nearby, and they make the best pie on this side of London. Come on, I'll treat you!"

At this, Louisa scooted across the floor towards him, seizing his arm and hauling him up with surprising strength. His arms stiffened defensively, and he sputtered incoherently in protest. Taken by the strangely bubbly behavior of the girl, her overwhelming friendliness and the sudden invitation, poor Arthur felt trapped. Weakly, he brushed her hands away from his arm.

"I-I should go. I should return to work..."

It was a feeble excuse, to be sure. He had absolutely no intention of putting ink to paper again in his life if he could help it. Yet, if he didn't...if he did not chronicle those secrets that he had so unfortunately discovered, he was sure he would have that dream again. He would see those same things, hear the same guttural whispers, feel helpless in the darkness...

"Next time, then?" Louisa asked hopefully, interrupting his thoughts.

"Hm?" he looked up at her and replied distractedly, "Oh um...I suppose so."

"Great!" she chirped, releasing his arm and putting some much-needed distance between them. "Oh...I should be going too. I was supposed to meet my cousin this afternoon. See you around?'

"U-um...sure?" Arthur's head was spinning from the girl's peppy attitude.

"Alright!" she spun on her heel in order to leave, still smiling brightly. "Oh, by the way, I'll be holding you to that promise!"

"Promise?"

"You owe me one slice of custard pie." Louisa winked at him, her smile brighter than before, and finally left the shop, the cheery tinkle of the bell following in her wake.

Her smile stayed with him for the rest of the afternoon. Whether that was a good thing or not, he could not determine.

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**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Fanatics like myself know all about who Arthur in the manga is supposed to be, and no doubt you already know who Louisa is as well. For those who don't know, she's no OC, that's for sure. I'm just taking a bit of creative liberty with her character, that's all.

And uh...a bit of shameless referencing there at the end, lol!

Till next time!


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